


A Spark on Gasoline

by iwanna_seeyou_undoit



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, M/M, and bits of present day, basically they grow up with the story, it's all just one big ball of fluff, there's bits where they're on xfactor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 02:04:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4503630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwanna_seeyou_undoit/pseuds/iwanna_seeyou_undoit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“D’ya really think it’s a good idea?” Harry was in the process of zipping up his trousers when Niall had suggested it, both still sweaty and running off the high of performing. Harry had been taking a quick wee before they all loaded into the vans taking them back to the hotel, and Niall had suggested, calm as anything, that they only pay for one hotel room.</p><p>Or, Harry and Niall travel home together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Spark on Gasoline

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Narryornarry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narryornarry/gifts).



> You asked for a Narry fic based around 18. I hope I delivered.
> 
> I would like to thank D and S for their wonderful support (I'll thank you properly when authors are revealed). Without you this wouldn't be more than a few hundred words.
> 
> Title is from One Time Thing by The Airborne Toxic Event. 
> 
> Obviously, I know nothing, own nothing, claim nothing et cetera.

_‘We made a start’_

Travelling has never bothered Harry as much as it seems to bother Niall. The blond is always complaining about jetlag, not having his own bed, having to sit still on long plane rides. Harry’s known this from the start, ever since they visited Ireland back in the X Factor days. Really, he knew before then, he’d found out on the flight to Simon’s house during their first weeks as a band. Niall’s definitely the sort of bloke who likes the comforts of home. 

Mullingar has always felt a little bit like a second home to Harry, has ever since Niall had badgered him into visiting his hometown in 2010 when they were still bright eyed, fresh faced sixteen year olds. 

In fairness, Harry had suggested it first - more a joke than anything else. Niall had just been the one to not laugh, to crawl into Harry’s bunk and whisper promises about how much his family would love Harry. 

To start with, Harry had been nervous that he and Holly wouldn’t get along. He’d admitted as much to Louis - crept into the space between his body and the sofa one evening and confessed that he was scared of Niall making the obvious decision and choosing his girlfriend over his very new bandmate. Holly had, after all, known Niall for longer, and if she didn’t like Harry it’d be him getting chucked. 

Harry didn’t get much of a chance to dwell on his thoughts, because Niall cornered him in the kitchen and insisted that he’d love Holly and Holly would love him. Turns out, Louis can’t keep confidential couch confessions confidential. Who would have thought? 

Niall was right though, even if his promise hadn’t kept Harry from worrying. He and Holly got on like a house on fire though. She was a carbon copy of Niall, just female, and much better at cooking and using hair straighteners. Harry still has the scar on his ear from Niall’s attempt to prove it. 

On the last afternoon of his stay, the three of them had been sat on the couch watching some film that Harry can no longer remember the name of, and sharing a bowl of popcorn. Niall had been in the middle, one arm slung around Holly shoulders, one leg across Harry’s lap, and his other hand holding the bowl in place. 

Harry had made a move for the last handful of popcorn at the same time Niall had, fingers tangling together and hitting against the sides of the bowl. Before Harry could take any evasive action, Niall had rearranged them so that Harry was flat on his back - head pressed uncomfortably into the armrest, and feet in Holly’s lap. 

The bowl of popcorn was pressed between their stomachs, Harry’s squirming not making it any easier to keep the popcorn _in_ the bowl and off the sofa. Niall’s fingers - long and lean and slightly calloused - were digging into Harry’s ribs, unrelenting. 

Harry’s sure that his protests were loud enough to be heard by the neighbours, and he knows for certain that Holly’s laughter was infectious. Another thing she shared with Niall. Niall who was bent close to Harry’s face, huffing out laughs in between promises to never give in. 

His breath had smelt like a slightly stale mix of toothpaste and popcorn, something about the way his crooked teeth offset the colour of his lips strangely distracting. The film was still playing in the background, and Harry took advantage of Niall’s momentary distraction by a loud noise to buck his hips up and try to throw him off. His talent for bad timing was uncanny, though, so rather than freeing himself, Harry had ended up with Niall lips pressed against his own. 

They’d both frozen for the briefest of seconds, shocked breathing warm against each other’s cheeks, before Niall had resumed his attack, and Holly had taken up telling them off through her laughter that _“they were getting popcorn all over the place!”_

_\---_

Harry pulls himself out of his thoughts and stares out the window of the plane. He can feel Niall’s warmth through the thin material of their shirts. His head’s tilted at an awkward angle so it can rest on Harry’s shoulder, mouth open and drooling, face relaxed with sleep. 

Maybe it makes Harry a bad person, but he’s enjoying the feeling of Niall’s weight at his side too much to consider repositioning him. If Niall has a sore neck when he wakes up, Harry’s got some Deep Heat in his suitcase that he packed specifically for that occasion. Also for the leg cramps that he gets. 

It’s weird, flying without the other boys, except that it’s also not. In the last couple of years, Harry and Niall had gotten a plane to themselves - an absolute blessing on long haul flights, but recently, in the precious few months before their contracts expire and don’t get renewed, they’ve been taking the opportunity to spend as much time with Liam and Louis as possible. 

All four of them still keep in contact with Zayn, he’s flying into Dublin the day after tomorrow and will take a taxi to Mullingar from there. Liam and Louis and their girlfriends - Liam’s still with Sophia, and Louis and Eleanor have decided to try again after just over a year apart - will be joining Niall and Harry tomorrow. 

Harry shifts in his seat, resting his cheek against the top of Niall’s head, hair feeling healthier than it has in years now that he’s decided to grow the brown back in. He closes his eyes, the familiar smell of Niall’s shampoo lulling him, breathing patterns syncing up as he joins the other man in sleep. 

\--- 

Holly and Niall had broken up a little time after Harry’s visit. He’d been expecting Niall to be in pieces, cut up and let down, but when Harry opened his arms anticipating a tearful hug, Niall had pressed a placating smile into his shoulder and told him it was all part of life. 

“Holly and me talked ‘bout it. We’re good. ‘S just hard t’ have a relationship when t’e better half’s in England! Besides, we’re just sixteen. Wasn’t going t’ last much, anyway.” 

Despites his casual jokes about it, Niall had climbed into Harry’s bed in London that night, cold feet pressing into Harry’s calves, wicked little smirk on his lips when Harry winced. “T’e better part’s actually t’e one still in Mullingar, I reckon.” 

Harry had wriggled around until his back was facing Niall, felt around behind him until he found Niall's hands, pulled them tight over his stomach. Neither of them spoke, and Harry drifted off to the soft puffs of air Niall’s snores created. 

~~~ 

_‘Like you made me feel’_

It had taken a long time for Harry to settle into nights on the tour bus. The constant movement, the small space of the bunks, the fact that on any given night only half his boys might be with him. In hotel rooms, he knew where the other boy’s rooms were, could easily roll out of bed and pad down a hallway, knock on a door and clamber in beside a sleeping Zayn. On bus nights, he never knew if Liam and Louis were okay, three cars ahead of him, never had any way of physically reaching them. 

Bus nights were weird for him, but worse for Niall. Claustrophobic and having difficulty getting to sleep even in his own bed, Niall could not settle for hours on end. He’d make out like he was fine, like he was content to sprawl out on the cushioned bench and play Fifa by himself while the others went off to bed. But Harry could hear the annoyed groans when Niall eventually made it to his bunk, could hear the difference between actual snores and fake snuffles. 

They discovered, three weeks after Harry turned eighteen, that sharing a bunk helped them both sleep - limbs interweaving and breathing in the same air, no room to move and more blankets that necessary because Harry got cold at night. Niall preferred the closeness of a human body than that of a wall and a roof, and Harry… Harry just liked the comfort that came with sleeping next to a warm body. 

The fact that it was Niall, and that ever since the X Factor house, sleeping had been easier with his body heat, didn’t make a difference to anything. It just meant that they knew each other’s secrets first - the other boys found out later, there were no secrets within the band, but Harry and Niall had taken to whispering into their shared pillows before the rock of the bus lulled them to sleep. 

\--- 

Harry wakes with a jolt, body finely attuned to every movement Niall makes. Niall’s turned to face the aisle, arms raised above his head in a stretch and Harry blinks his eyes sleepily. He remembers - in vivid detail - one of the first times he’d woken up to the sight, Niall all shoulder blades and bent elbows, soft lower back and the gentle curve of his neck. 

It had been early one morning, when they’d been falling asleep next to one another for long enough that doing anything else felt foreign. Harry had blinked awake, arm stretched over the empty space next to him, the side of the bed closest to the aisle, and his knuckles had brushed against skin. Niall was sleep warm and still plaint, twisting to look down at Harry, fond embedded in the heat of his cheeks. 

“Mornin’ sleepyhead.” 

Harry had grinned up at him, still very much half asleep, and feeling something comforting and warm curling low in his belly. “‘S not even six yet,” he grumbled. Niall had just laughed and touched the backs of his fingers to Harry’s forehead. 

“Go back t’ bed then. Was just getting up t’ piss.” Niall had stood up, the small pudge of tummy he’d never shake off looking plump and warm and soft. Harry wanted to press his teeth to it. 

“Hurry back.” Harry fell asleep before Niall’s white pants even disappeared into the bathroom, but warm, dry lips against his ear roused him again. 

“Shh,” Niall patted at Harry’s arm, settled in behind him in the small bunk. “Giz a cuddle, monkey.” 

The name ‘monkey’ had stuck, as had the contented feeling in Harry’s stomach. Stuck around for long enough, in fact, for Harry to now be watching his fiance work his muscles free of the cricks airplane seats have always given him. 

“‘re we landing?” Niall spins around at Harry’s voice, face flitting from shocked to soft. 

“Y’ scared me!” Niall laughs, eyes tired but his smile almost painfully sweet. Harry just wants to be _off this damn plane_. 

“Expecting someone else?” Harry stretches his legs out as best he can in his seat, and drapes one arm out and into the empty space of Niall’s seat. He wants a cuddle from his fiance, wants some time to just sit and be close to one another before they get overrun with both their families in Dublin airport. 

“Nah,” Niall shakes his head and gets himself settled under Harry’s arm. “Unfortunately.” 

Harry slaps at his shoulder half-heartedly, too travel weary to bother starting anything he won’t be able to finish. “Heey! Watch yourself.” 

“Or what?” Niall challenges, lips moving close to the skin of Harry’s jaw. “You’ll throw me off t’e plane?” 

Harry nuzzles his face into Niall’s hair, finally starting to soften after years of being dyed. “Mmn,” he presses his smile into his fiance’s scalp. “Somefing like that.” 

Niall laughs under his breath, mutters something about Harry _‘letting his accent get lazy and it isn’t even eight o’clock yet’_ into the warmth of Harry’s neck. Harry just closes his eyes and doesn’t open them again until Niall kisses him awake and tells him they’re about to land. 

\--- 

Dublin is exactly as mental as Harry had pictured it. They’ve managed to keep their arrival on the down low, so there is no where near the amount of cameras that there usually is when One Direction fly anywhere. Unfortunately for the other boys, they won’t be so lucky. Most of the chaos is the fault of their families - Gemma and Anne standing in the middle of.. 

“Niall, is that your _entire_ family?” 

The man turns to smile winsomely up at Harry. “Yeh. Full royal bloody escort.” 

Harry squeezes Niall’s hand and thinks to himself that he shouldn’t have expected any less of the Horan/Gallaghers. It’s exactly why he left enough room for about three platefuls of whatever they’ve cooked up in Mullingar. 

“Right,” Niall announces. “Let’s get t’is over with, shall we?” 

~~~ 

_‘So pour me a drink’_

The only guests from Harry’s side in Ireland are Anne, Gemma, and Robin, but that will change the next day when the rest arrive along with the Liam and Louis. It’s a bloody good thing they aren’t - Niall’s extended family is doing an excellent job of overrunning Maura’s house, the small kitchen absolutely overflowing with people. 

Harry tucks his feet up and out of the way of one of Niall’s cousins, and tips over on the sofa until he can dig his nose into Niall’s neck. “Miss Ireland.” 

Niall digs an elbow into his side. “And no wonder! Got t’ whole of Mullingar fussin’ after ya!” His voice is dipped with fond, and Harry doesn’t have to look up to see the smile on his fiance's face. 

“Fussing after _you_ , more like. Your poor mum hasn’t seen you in months!” 

“An’ whose fault is that, Harry Styles?” Greg’s tired face materialises between their heads, leant over the back of the sofa with Theo propped on one hip - the three year old almost too big to be carried around like he used to be. “You’ve been keeping our lad away from home far too long!” 

Harry fakes a pout and then breaks into a smile when Theo reaches out to tug at his hair. “Hey, little man!” 

“Hare!” The blond toddler screeches, and Niall cackles at his side. 

“Theo still mastering double syllables?” 

Greg nods, laughing along with them. He motions towards the kitchen. “I’d best be getting in t’ere. The women’ll be having me head if I don’t help out.” 

“Pretend to, more like,” Niall mutters under his breath and Harry pretends not to notice the two fingered salute Greg throws in their direction. 

“I do feel bad, though,” he mumbles, face reattached to Niall’s shoulder. He smells nice - like soap and the sharp tang of his aftershave. 

Niall swats at Harry’s thigh, settled casually across his knees. “Idiot. We were doin’ the wedding plans.” 

“Still,” Harry insists. Niall just shakes his head and pushes Harry upright. 

“You need another drink. Katies!” He shouts to his two cousins. “Where’s the _Baileys_ at?” The two of them have been drinking all night, it seems - a beer before dinner, a wine with dinner, a round of (frankly _awful_ ) whiskey after dinner, and now glasses of _Baileys_ liqueur as a night cap of sorts. 

Harry gives Niall grief about ‘ _living up to the Irish stereotype’_ but accepts his glass nonetheless. Niall laughs and tells him he’d better get used to it - Niall is planning on getting drunk at their reception. Harry smacks him and promises to get an annulment if he so much as brings it up again. 

~~~ 

_‘We took a chance’_

“D’ya really think it’s a good idea?” Harry was in the process of zipping up his trousers when Niall had suggested it, both still sweaty and running off the high of performing. Harry had been taking a quick wee before they all loaded into the vans taking them back to the hotel, and Niall had suggested, calm as anything, that they only pay for one hotel room. 

“Yeh,” Niall was looking at him like he was thick. “We’ve been sharing for...what, a couple of months now? No point in paying for a room we aren’t using.” 

Harry’s chest had seized up. “But what if…” What if _what?_ Harry didn’t know. All he knew was that LouisandEleanor booked a single room, ZaynandPerrie booked a single room, Liam and Niall and Harry booked a room each. Zayn and Louis were in committed relationships. Niall and Harry… Well, they’d been snogging for a while. 

“What if we have a row, d’ya mean?” Niall questioned, and _yeah, alright. That too._ “T’en one of us can go room with one of the lads. We can have turn about,” he grinned. “You can bugger off every second argument.” 

Niall had been talking like they were _together._ Like they were a couple who bickered over who put the washing away, or who looked what way at which fan. Harry had hardly had a _proper_ relationship, and the ones he did have were massively publicised. He’d have to hide Niall away, wouldn’t be allowed to get handsy. 

Still. The idea of knowing for certain that Niall would be sleeping in his bed, the possibility of not having to guess whether Niall would use his keycard or just follow along to Harry’s room was comforting. He had run his hands under the tap, dried them quickly on his trouser legs, and held out his fist to Niall. 

“Alright, then.” Instead of knocking their knuckles together Niall had wrapped his fingers around Harry’s fist. 

“Gotta think of something t’ tell the lads.” 

“The truth?” Harry had suggested, and Niall had kissed him. 

~~~ 

_‘Made for holding you’_

Zayn and Perrie arrived with a bang. Literally. Mullingar was _freezing_ , the wind wasn’t helping things, and Zayn had never been very good at closing doors nicely behind himself. Maura had very nearly fallen off the couch in shock, but after Perrie had apologised profusely on Zayn’s behalf, there were cups of tea aplenty. 

Despite Maura’s insistence, Anne and Robin were staying in a motel in town, so Gemma is the only Styles relation in the house. After the first night Niall’s family had all dispersed to their various houses, and motel rooms, so Harry’s not feeling too outnumbered. Anyway, just as Sophia had rightly pointed out: he’d better get used to be swamped by enthusiastic Gallagher/Horans. 

So Harry and Niall, plus their bandmates and their girlfriends, Maura, Gemma, Greg, and Denise are sat around the coffee table in Maura’s living room, sipping cups of tea and playing...they’re _trying_ to play Scrabble but with more than four people it isn’t really working. Even with the couples teamed up, and Maura and Gemma forming a ‘single ladies union’ as they’re calling it, there are still six teams. 

Louis and Zayn had formulated the idea of leaving Niall and Harry on a team by themselves, and then forming mega-teams against them. After rearranging Maura’s furniture they’ve ended up with Liam, Sophia, Gemma, and Maura on one team, the others on another, and the soon-to-be-married couple fending for themselves. With less tiles between them, and a severely unhealthy score, they make the unspoken decision to not care about the game and leave their friends and family to it. 

“We gonna see Bobby later?” Harry asks Niall, voice low so as not to disturb the very competitive game of Scrabble. He had been at Maura’s with the rest of the family, but he’d left the day before with Anne and Robin, not wanting to intrude. 

Niall makes a noise of agreeance. “Yeh, an’ then you’re gonna bugger off for the night.” 

Harry’s confused for a moment, and then… “Seriously?” 

“Seriously. ‘S bad luck to see the groom before the ceremony.” 

Harry is actually, genuinely baffled. “But we’re… I’m not… You seriously want me to stay in a motel for the night?” 

Niall sits up from where he had been draped over Harry for the past half and hour. “Yes? You’re having a stag do, ain’t ya.” 

It seems that there are other people in the room who have caught onto their conversation. Louis pipes up from the other couch, “just for the record boys, I am still angry at you for having your stag dos on the _same night_.” 

Liam and Zayn murmur their agreement, and Niall rolls his eyes at them. “We’ve been over t’is. You’re all goin’ t’ Haz’s stag b’cause my mates _live_ in Ireland. We’ll have a joint bloody thing afterwards if it’s getting up you that much.” 

“But that defeats the purpose, Nialler!” Louis complains. “Can’t hire you strippers once you’re already married!” Eleanor smacks him on the arm, but smiles despite herself. 

Harry looks a bit trapped. “You’re not hiring either one of us strippers ever, thank you very much!” 

Niall throws his head back in a loud cackle, and this time it’s Maura doing the smacking. “I’ll thank you not t’ laugh at t’at, young man.” 

Zayn smirks, “Nick already bit that bullet, didn’t he H? Fun eighteenth birthday, weren’t it?” 

Harry is full on blushing by now, and he looks to Niall for help. Even though he still looks amused, he doesn’t fail in his duties. “No, but seriously lads. No strippers. Harry’ll have his bachelor party with you lot and whatever of his lot ‘ve flown over, and I’ll have mine with whatever ragtag bunch I can find.” 

“I thought you were okay with it, Niall. You’re the one that suggested it,” Harry _thinks_ that Niall’s joking about having the scrounge up enough people for a proper bachelor do, but he has to make sure. He doesn’t _need_ to have all three of the lads there. 

“Of _course_ I’m okay with it, you idiot.” 

“Hey, um..?” Sophia interrupts Harry from seeing how hard he can kick Niall before he gets in trouble. “Why don’t the boys have half a night with Harry, and half a night with Niall?” 

Oh. No one had thought of that. Louis cheers. “Keep this one on, Leemo! Two lots of booze!” 

With that settled, Harry hugs Niall tight to his chest. He still can’t believe that Niall’s being so insistent upon not seeing each other until the ceremony tomorrow. He can feel his heart thumping, and he’s sure Niall can as well what wit the way they’re pressed together. It’s just that, well, by the end of tomorrow he’ll be a married man. 

It’s scary in a lovely, I want this with you forever, kind of way. 

~~~ 

_Live and love in slow motion_

It had happened like this - Harry had been sitting in the kitchen, flipping through a cookbook. Niall had been crouched in front of the cupboard next to the sink, looking for their stir fry pan. He’d been telling Harry they needed to have a clean out of the kitchen - the cupboard was so full of pots and frying pans and a wok that he was having to hold it all in with one arm. 

Harry had looked up from the book, meaning to ask Niall whether they had enough butter left in the fridge to make a desert, but what had come out was, “Gemma was saying how cute our wedding would be.” 

Niall didn’t even flinch, just delved further into the cupboard, one skinny leg stuck behind him for balance. Harry was reminded of a cat, a bit, all bones and sinew and a slightly misleading hint of softness. Niall was all angles. “Ours would be the _best_ , Harry.” 

There was a clamour from the cupboard at that, Niall had to use both forearms to keep everything in, but he had apparently succeeded in removing the fryingpan from a half dozen others, and emerged with a triumphant smile. 

“Niall?” Harry questioned, not anywhere near as nervous as he’d imagined himself being, when he'd thought about this moment. “I want to marry you.” 

Niall looked at him with his usual fond smile. “Want t’ marry you.” 

Harry had smiled, stood up from the kitchen table, and taken the pan out of Niall’s hands. “Soon?” 

“Soon. Spring sound good t’ you?” 

“Can we wait until October? M’ cousin’s getting married in spring.” 

Niall had nodded, kissed Harry thoroughly, and then asked for him to start cutting up the capsicums. They’d gone shopping for a ring the next day - ended up with matching white gold bands. They weren’t anything showy - hardly had any decoration on them at all except a tiny Claddagh set in the middle of a small row of diamonds. 

All in all it was one of the most casual proposals in history - certainly Harry hadn’t expected himself to be so calm about it. He’d been imagining sweaty palms, heard himself stuttering over simple words every single time he’d imagined it. He should have known though. Things with Niall have always been easy. Why would this be any different? 

~~~ 

_‘Let’s split the night wide open’_

“Is it just me, or is it really fucking cold out here?” Louis has been complaining about the bitterly cold wind for long enough that Harry is beginning to regret asking him to be his bestman. Niall took Liam and Harry has no doubt in his mind that Liam’s doing a far better job than Louis is right now. 

“Yeah, well it’s unseasonably cold.” Harry retorts, pulling his suit jacket tighter about himself. He’s not _nervous_ it’s just… well, in all honesty he hadn’t slept well last night knowing Niall was a few blocks across town, and it really is rather freezing and apparently there had been trouble with the seating in the church. 

The church had been Niall’s idea - more something to make his parents and family feel appeased than to satisfy any faith of either Niall or Harry, but it’s nice. Comforting, almost, in the midst of stressed out mothers and really fucking cold wind. 

“Is there _any_ way we can get that door jammed closed?” Louis demands very loudly - to who, Harry has no idea. They’re the only ones in the room since he and Niall had decided against any sort of ‘bridal’ party and their groomsmen are already inside the church with Niall. Harry and Louis are the only in the small outhouse - shivering, and waiting for Anne to arrive back from checking on the state of the seating. 

“Who had the idea to get married in _Ireland_ in _winter_?” 

“It’s not winter, Louis. It’s still only mid-autumn.” 

“It’s still fucking cold, mate.” 

Anne arrives before Louis can go on, and Harry stands up to smooth out his trousers. “All sorted?” She nods, and shoos him out the door - the three of them running the 200 metres to the side door of the church in a sort of frozen, anticipatory nervousness. 

Since Harry isn’t a bride, and it didn’t seem right to have one of them walk down the aisle when there wasn’t any clear distinction, Harry and Niall are entering at the same time through opposite doors. All their groomsmen are meant to be inside already, so Harry gives Louis a push and asks him to let everyone know they’re ready. 

Just to be sure, he texts Niall a quick, **see you soon** and earns a smack in the arm from his mother. 

“Why’ve you brought your phone with you?” 

“B’cause I don’t trust Louis.” 

Anne tutts. “Yes, well give it to me. You’re ridiculous, the both of you.” She’s only just tucked Harry’s phone away into her bag when someone inside opens the doors and Harry sees Niall in the same position - mother on his arm, charcoal suit and champagne coloured tie the exact same as Harry’s and the groom’s men’s. 

After that, it’s all over very quickly. They move through their vows before Harry can even remember to remind himself to remember this, and then Niall’s slipping a ring onto his finger - the same colour as their engagement rings but just plain this time. His hands only shake a little bit when it’s his turn, and it’s mainly because it’s still really cold inside the church. 

He doesn’t get nervous around Niall anymore, never really has if he’d being honest - it’s more of a quiet, contented calm. Like a pot of soup, just simmering on the stove. 

Niall’s teeth catch Harry’s lip when they kiss and it’s absolutely the most content Harry has ever felt. In contrast to the whole ceremony, it feels like everything’s slower, calmer. And then Niall’s pulling away, and they’re signing the marriage certificate, and loading into a hilariously plain Volkswagen where it’s much, much warmer than outside. 

The reception hall is even warmer, especially when the proper dancing starts and Harry’s being whizzed around the room by one of Niall’s aunties, Niall spinning Harry’s uncle around in a hilariously dramatic waltz. 

Harry laughs when his own aunt cuts in, stipulating that she hasn’t had a chance with _either_ of the newlyweds, and doesn’t think about how awful Niall’s going to be when they’re travelling again tomorrow. 

Niall was the one who insisted on honeymooning in Australia, so Harry has no sympathy for him whatsoever. As if reading his thoughts, Niall meets his eye across the room and winks. Harry just feels really, really happy. It’s not a lyric that would make it onto an album but it’s the pure, unmodified truth. 

Niall’s just always made him happy. 


End file.
